by BA Tortuga
“Stupido! He’s worth less if he’s marked!”
Another blow sent his world spinning. “He’s already marked.”
“Morg—” The shout cut off abruptly, the sound like a gurgle. Oh God, they’d hurt Max. Oh, please, no.
The sting in his arm was familiar, sharp, the way the market got tiny and dim enough to make him sob. His little bag dropped from his hand as the men hoisted him up, pulled him along until he couldn’t see or hear anything anymore.
The one solid thing in his world was just gone.
Chapter Eight
MAX WOKE up in jail.
It wasn’t bad, as jails went. Certainly not as bad as that place he and Poe had ended up one time in Venezuela. Hell, it was nicer than the county clink in Enid, Oklahoma. But it was still jail.
And he was still without Morgan.
A hard knot of worry lodged in his gut every time Max thought of it. He figured it had to be Morgan’s daddy who snatched him, and he had visions of the man zonking Morgan in a hospital someplace, a needle in Morgan’s arm.
Goddamn.
Max paced, waiting for them to decide his passport was okay and let him out. He’d called Morrie’s people already, for the first time happy he’d inherited all that money and power. Those swarms of lawyers ought to be doing something for him, damn it, from getting him out of jail to starting the process of finding Morgan.
Because God knew he wasn’t going to let this go.
“Señor? Your man is here. You are free to go.”
The guard opened the cell, and Max’s heart leapt for a minute, thinking he meant Morgan. But it was some suit who met him, not his skinny-assed sugar.
“You get me what I needed?” Max asked, taking his hat and boots from the guard.
“I have some information, yes.” The lawyer nodded, handed him his wallet. “Do you require a physician, sir?”
“No.” His head was like to kill him, but Max could wait. “I want to know where Vic Bowen stashed his son.”
“Mr. Bowen left the country on a private jet yesterday evening. The flight plan had them landing in London, then heading on to the States.”
Once he stomped into his boots, Max headed out, motioning sharply for the man to follow. He’d go back to the hotel, get their shit.
“Then I need a flight to the States. Wherever old Vic is headed.”
“Yes, sir. I do know that Mr. Bowen hired four private nurses in the last two days. Full-time.”
Fuck. Oh fuck, what was that man doing to Morgan…. Max veered off, hailing a cab as soon as they got outside. “My passport,” he snapped, holding out his hand. “I want on a flight in less than an hour.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange. Are you sure you won’t see a doctor?” The documents were handed over, the man peering at him.
“I’m sure.” He’d get some aspirin on the plane. And maybe some scotch. Max determinedly did not look down at himself. He figured his pants and loose linen shirt looked like he’d been through a war. Or in jail.
“And get me a meeting with Vic Bowen. Yesterday.”
If the man wouldn’t let him talk Morgan out of wherever he’d stashed him, Max figured it was only fair to tell the old fart he was gonna bust Morgan out.
It was about damned time Morgan was able to stop running.
And about time for Max to take the man home.
MAX CURSED under his breath, long and fluent. In about three languages. Goddamn, he hated bending the law, but that he did often enough. This, though. This was breaking it in the biggest way.
Still, he figured as he redirected the wiring on the big picture window in Morgan’s hospital room, if the old man had agreed to see him, he wouldn’t have been driven to these lengths. Max had finally gotten a glimpse of Morgan yesterday, out for a spin on the manicured grounds of the Palm Springs facility, and he’d been drugged out of his skull, uncoordinated and slow.
It had damn near broken Max’s heart.
“You ready?” he whispered to the one guy he could always count on, the one guy who would be willing to fly in from somewhere in bumfuck Argentina to help him break his lover out of what amounted to a fancy jail.
Poe nodded. “You bet, buddy. Let’s go get him.”
The window popped right out of the cheap-assed foam shit that held it in, and no alarms went off, so Max breathed a sigh of relief and hopped over the sill once he and Poe had muscled it aside, getting a grin and a nod as they moved in. Lord, that man. He did love his adrenaline. Max almost grinned back, but his head was already clicking ahead three steps.
His little flashlight flicked on, illuminating the room, and there was Morgan, fucking strapped to the bed. Max growled, making sure there was no attending nurse before wading in, ready to start yanking at wires.
“Dude.” Poe held him back. “Let’s make sure this is not gonna set off anything at the nurse’s station or some shit.”
Fuck. Okay. He could do that. He could. Max let Poe do the wire tracing, though, and went to take Morgan’s hand, staring down at him.
Those dark eyes stared up at him, bloodshot and dazed. “Cowboy. ’M sorry. They got you.”
No contacts, though. Max could see those pretty eyes just as they were. “No, sugar. No. We’ve got you. Can you walk?”
“Hmm?” Morgan frowned, blinked slowly. “’M tied to the bed.”
“I know, Morgan. I know. We’re gonna get you loose.” Looked like they were gonna have to fetch and carry. Lucky he’d brought backup, then. Max looked at Poe. “Can we move him?”
Poe nodded, eyes on the machines. “Yeah, buddy, but he’s got a few monitors that might set off. I’d say we’ll have a two minute start.”
“Sugar, look at me. Right at me. I’m gonna need you to help me. Can you do that?”
He got a grin, sort of cockeyed, but real. “’Kay, cowboy.”
On the other side of the bed, Poe chuckled, starting to remove wires Max couldn’t even begin to understand. He left the one on Morgan’s chest and the clip on his finger until last. Max got it, nodded.
“We’re gonna have to grab you and run, sugar. No fighting us, no noise. Gonna get you out.”
“Won’t fight. I want to see the dogs.”
“He knows about your dogs? It must be serious. You ready, buddy?”
“Yeah. Okay, sugar. We’re gonna grab you and go, ’kay?” Yeah. He was ready. They’d just have to go. Max took a deep breath, snapping off the clip on Morgan’s finger and lifting at the same time Poe did, both of them running for the window, the sensor wire on Max’s chest tearing free.
“Sugar. It is you.” Morgan went limp, not fighting him a bit, face turning into his shoulder.
He grunted, passing Morgan’s weight to Poe, who had vaulted out the window, before scrambling out himself and taking Morgan back, then pelting across the lawn as Poe went to fire up the car.
The alarms started up as he hit the edge of the grass, lights coming on all over the hospital.
Looked like his head start was up.
“Move, move, move.” Max muttered it to himself, his feet sliding on the crushed clamshell driveway, even in his borrowed sneakers. He almost fell over the hood of the car, which was idling now, Poe hopping out to help him.
“Now’s not the time to get cozy, man. They might have guns.”
“No shooting.” Morgan slumped into the back seat, head just rolling on the skinny shoulders.
Max bundled into the back seat with Morgan, knowing he was in no condition to drive, knowing his old buddy would be perfectly capable of getting them out of there. The rubber they left on the driveway? Yeah. Poe still had it.
“Sugar? Look at me, Morgan.”
Those dark eyes rolled a little, trying to focus. “Max. Max, they’re gonna take me away.”
“No. They’re not now. We’re gonna go home, Morgan. I’m gonna take you home, honey.” He held Morgan tight, bracing for the curves.
“Home.” Morgan pushed close, shaking a little, shivering. Fuck,
he hated that they’d drugged him up. “Sorry, cowboy.”
“Why? You didn’t do anything.”
“Oh fuck, hang on, folks,” Poe said from the front seat, just about the time they did some sort of flying run over a speed bump and through a fence, throwing Morgan and Max together so that their heads clunked.
“Ow.” He got another one of those grins, dark eyes crossed. “Faster, faster.”
“Lord, don’t tell him that.” Morgan held Max close, blinking against the bright lights of the hospital on alert as they disappeared behind them. Hopefully without pursuit. Max took a kiss, needing to feel Morgan for himself, needing to taste.
Morgan’s hands reached up, a moan pushing into his lips as he was held. His lover tasted acrid and wrong and the piercing was gone, but it was still Morgan, still right.
Max just held on tight and closed his eyes, trusting Poe to get them to the church or, in this case, the plane on time. Once they got to Oklahoma, he’d defy the fucking Marines to come get Morgan, let alone old Vic Bowen.
He’d keep Morgan safe this time, damn it.
He would just have to.
HE WAS in an airport in…. Utah? Arizona? Dallas? Somewhere.
Morgan blinked over at Max and… Max’s friend. His arm itched where they took the IV out, and he was wearing a sweatshirt four sizes too big, and he wasn’t wearing shoes, but that was okay. He thought.
Max had explained what they were doing, but it didn’t make any sense at all because Max had started speaking Swahili about a quarter of the way through, and, uh, Max’s friend had just laughed and handed him some water.
He thought it was water.
It was sort of water-flavored.
“Hey, sugar. Want part of a Cinnabon?” Oh. Gooey. And sort of bouncing in front of his face.
“Uh-huh.” He bobbed along with the motions of the pastry, trying to figure out how to catch it.
“Open up.” Max sounded like he was laughing at him, but Morgan didn’t mind. Not when sugary goodness landed on his tongue.
“Mmm….” He moaned, the flavors just delicious and gooey and cinnamony and….
“They took my piercings. My chain.”
“I know.” Oh, growly. Not at all laughing now. “We’ll get you some new ones. You know how I like them.”
“Lord, y’all are something.” A heavy, muscled body plopped down next to his, nut-brown fingers pulling off a piece of pastry and disappearing from view.
“Is that good?” He leaned against Max, peering over at… “Who are you?”
“Poe. I’m an old friend of Max’s. I’ll come with you a bit. Stay at the ranch.” Poe grinned, white smile flashing. He was really kind of pretty in a rough and ready way.
“Hi. I’m Morgan. I’m Max’s lover. I want to meet his dogs.”
“Of course you do,” Poe said. “They’re great, ungainly mutts.”
Max chuckled, fed him another piece of bun. “Yeah, and you’re gonna love the bed I have there.”
“Is it as good as the one in Rio?” Oh. Rio. Truth or dare. Max. His cowboy. Oh God. Max. They’d hurt Max. Father would hurt Max. “Did they hurt you? I heard them. They said you died. Did they hurt you? They hurt me, hit my face. Father wasn’t pleased.”
Max growled, putting an arm around him, the bun sort of… flying across to Poe. Did Cinnabons fly? “Not dead, sugar. Not by a long shot. I did wake up in jail. You look like you’re healed up nice.”
“I am. Jail?” He reached out, moving closer. “I’m glad you’re not. Dead. Or in jail. He’ll come back. You know that.”
“I know.” They sort of… clung, both of them forgetting where they were. “But he’ll be on my home ground then.”
“That’s good, right?” He was having trouble making sense of things, clearing his head.
“It is.” Max grinned at him. “It’s a real good thing.”
“Though it won’t be,” Poe said, “if y’all get your asses kicked here.”
“I am not ready for that.” He winked over at Poe. “I lost my shoes.”
“You didn’t have any, hon. Or clothes either. We took you out of there starkers.” He got a wink and another one of those broad grins. He could see why Max liked this guy. He really could.
Max squeezed his hand. “You look good in my shirt, though.”
“Good. It’s soft.” Better than the too-new shorts and cheap sandals he had on now. His legs ached, and he stood up, needing to walk around a little. God. What if they found him now? He didn’t have his ID, his passport. He didn’t have his own clothes. He didn’t want to go back. He wasn’t hurting anybody.
Christ, his heart was pounding.
“Come on, Morgan. Let’s go for a walk.” Max got up, murmured something to Poe, and put a hand on Morgan’s back, guiding him to the bathroom.
“I…. What if they…? Fuck. Cowboy. What if…?” He stepped carefully, watching the floor.
“No. You’re gonna be fine.” Max sounded so sure. So firm.
“I am?” Okay. He liked that answer.
“Yep. All we have to do is make our plane. Come on, let’s splash some water on your face.” That might make him feel more normal. Cleaner.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you got hurt.” Oh. Cold. Wow. Better. Cold.
“Stop that. I’m just sorry they got you away. Love you, sugar.” Max nuzzled up on him as soon as they got alone and away from other people.
“Love you.” He leaned toward Max, the man’s heat and strength exactly what he needed. “We’re going to your house?”
“We are. Gonna go, fatten you up a little, play a lot. Sound good?” Oh, he could focus on those dark eyes. He could.
“I like playing with you.” He reached up, stroked Max’s face. “I dreamed about you. Over and over.”
“Glad you didn’t forget me.” The tone was joking, but the look was serious, Max pressing a kiss to his palm, then leaning to kiss his mouth. “I was going nuts, wondering what they were doing to you.”
“Keeping me quiet. Fucking with my head.” He stepped closer. “I don’t want to do that again, but I will so I get my time with you, yeah?”
“You’ve got me. All of me, sugar.” Max pulled him close, kissed him silly. “I hope you can stand it.”
It was all he could do to just hold on. Nod. “Take me home. I haven’t gone home in so long.”
He couldn’t even remember when.
“I’m taking you there, Morgan.” Solid, strong, Max’s arms held him up. “Home with me. It’s about time I went too. Stopped running from it.”
“’Kay. Cool. Fuck, you’re strong.” Hot. Good.
“Strong as I need to be, sugar.” Lost. This time it was a good lost, but he got lost in Max’s kiss.
He just melted, humming, the lights spinning and sparkling for him. Whoa. Wow.
The room spun too as Max pulled him into a stall. Okay, he could see that, since there were heavy footsteps out there, a bunch of guys coming in. They might not be so happy to see the sparkly kisses.
Dipshit men. Sparkly kisses were almost as cool as wine-drunk ones.
Max kept him busy, though, so he didn’t need to tell them. Kept him all wrapped up in lips and tongue and cinnamon. He sort of climbed up Max, legs wrapping around the strong hips, just clinging.
Legs spreading to support them, Max stood like the rock of Gibraltar or something, holding his weight easily, just loving on him with hands and mouth. God, he’d thought… he’d thought for sure he’d never feel this again.
He wasn’t giving this up. Not again. Not now. “Cowboy.”
“Mmm-hmm. Hush now, Morgan. We can do this as long as we stay quiet.” Max needed to shave. His cheeks and his stubbly head.
He opened his mouth to answer, and then Max’s fingers brushed his lips, hushing him. Oh. Right. Quiet. Touching. Right. Good.
Max kissed him again and again, just sort of slow and sweet, tongue pushing into his lips, tasting him over and over. Like they had all day, which they d
idn’t, he knew that.
They had tickets.
Good thing Max was good at that whole schedule thing.
His back hit the little partition wall as Max got more serious, cock against his pelvis. Max almost moaned; Morgan felt the vibration against his lips.
Oh, yes. Mine. Home. Max. Cowboy. More.
So sweet, it was so good when Max cupped his ass with one hand and reached between them with the other, those teeth just biting into his neck.
Morgan threw his head back, throat working, hips rocking. He wasn’t even sure if he was hard; he wasn’t sure he cared.
Max was. Oh, Max was so hard against him, through their clothes, starting to really work it, hips snapping.
It was easy to reach down, touch that heat, pet it.
“Uhn.” Low and soft, that grunt told him he was doing it just right, his hand tangling with Max’s, both of them rubbing. Max rocked, licked, kissed, just held him.
“Yours.” He whispered it against Max’s lips. “Yours.”
Max growled. “Mine.”
And then Max was coming for him, hips rolling, belly and chest hard as a rock against Morgan’s body, shaking like crazy.
“That’s right. That’s right.” He nodded, humming and holding on. “That’s better.”
“Mmm-hmm. Much. Oh. I needed that.” Max grinned, looking a little embarrassed now, like his cowboy always did when they were so public.
A knock on the stall door made them both jump.
“Come on, lovers,” Poe said through the door. “Clean up. We board in ten.”
Morgan grinned, licked Max’s lips. “Thanks, Poe. You’ve got grand timing.”
“I do try.”
Max rolled his eyes. “Then try harder and get us some wet paper towels.”
Not five seconds after he said it, a wad of wet brown paper sailed over the stall. “See you in five.”
“Five what?” Ew. Cold. Wet. Sorta… industrial and slimy.
“Minutes, sugar. He’s giving us five minutes. Come on.” Max let him down, swiped at him, cleaned them both up.
“’Kay. You have an ID for me?” He tucked Max back into the jeans, patting gently.
“We do. You’re good to go until we get home and we can get you a real Oklahoma ID with your current fake ID. Won’t be hard.” Max grinned, his words breaking only a little when he patted. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go home.”